


A Hero's Hero

by flibbertygigget



Category: Much Ado About Nothing (2011), Much Ado About Nothing - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Duelling, F/M, Feminist Themes, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24068800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: Hero chooses to stay dead.
Relationships: Beatrice/Benedick (Much Ado About Nothing), Benedick & Hero (Much Ado About Nothing)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 100





	A Hero's Hero

“Come, lady,” said the Friar after detailing his plan, “die to live. This wedding-day perhaps is but prolonged.”

“Nay, good Friar, I think not,” said Hero. All eyes besides Benedick’s turned to her; he still had eyes only for her cousin. She could take some comfort, at least, in the fact that Beatrice had the love of a man who had proved far better than her own would-be husband.  _ He _ had never believed such falsehoods, even when spoken by his master, the prince. He had stayed back to tend to her, had even gone so far as to put his body between herself and her enraged father. Benedick had always seemed the clown to Claudio’s lord, but her ill-fated wedding had shown who was the honorable man.

“Whyever not?” said the Friar.

“Count Claudio has slandered me in the eyes of all our friends. Even if I were to marry him, even if he were to deny his words and profess love in terms not yet invented, that stain will never be washed clean. I believe it best that I stay dead.”

“Come now, Hero-” Benedick began, but he stopped when she looked him in the eye.

“Can you say it is not so?” Hero said. “I see in your eyes that you believe my maidenhood still intact, but even then there is a shadow. I will be either hated or pitied, seen as either faithless or a fool. There is no future for me there, in what would have been the strength and love of the arms of my Claudio, but neither is there any man who would take a woman who has been tarred with such a slander.”

“As I am a man, I shall take up your measures.”

“No,” said Hero. “Your heart belongs to my cousin, and in faith I swear her heart belongs to you. Do not abandon a greater happiness for the lesser.”

“None upon meeting sweet Hero could think her lesser,” Benedick said. “But you are right that I would rather have the thorn than the flower. Still, I pray you, give me any charge, and as your defender, friend, and kinsman I swear I shall carry it out.”

“Merry, good cousin, think on it a while,” Beatrice said in an imitation of her usual jovality. “You will get no better concession from Signor Benedick.”

“Pray, cuz,” Benedick said, and Hero almost laughed at the overly familiar term, “what charge do you have for me?”

“None except for that which you shall find too great to bear, I fear,” Hero said.

“By my sword, lady, I shall honor you.” Hero opened her mouth, and the two simple words fell too easily from her lips.

“Kill Claudio.” Beatrice let out a gasp, though Hero knew that her cousin would have likely asked the same. 

“Not for the wide world,” said Benedick, but he seemed more shocked by her request than resolved or angered.

“You kill me to deny it.”

“Your orders lie heavy upon me, for never did I believe I would face my friend across a battlefield.”

“Your friend! My enemy,” Hero said.

“Aye,” said Benedick, “your enemy, and a great stout enemy he is too, being too craven to fight you and too brazen to stay his hand from dishonoring you.”

“Then you see!” said Beatrice. “You must be a man, for my sake and that of Hero. Count Claudio, the villain, hath slandered, scorned, undone my cousin. Thou hath claimed her as thine kinswoman-”

“Enough,” Benedick said. “I am engaged. I will challenge him.” He took Hero’s hand and kissed it. “My lady, is there aught else that I must do?”

“Only this,” said Hero, “that the challenge shall be fulfilled in full view of the household, and that you shall not hold back for love of a man who has so slandered me.” He kissed her hand again.

“By this hand,” he said, “I shall give you satisfaction.”

* * *

Benedick returned to her and her cousin only a few hours later, looking grave and sick of heart. "It is done," he said. "I have quit the prince's company and given my challenge. By tomorrow night we shall know the time and date it will be set." He passed a hand over his face wearily, none of his characteristic good humor present anymore. Not for the first time, Hero regretted the necessity of his office, but she had no brothers and her father was an aged man. Benedick was the ablest man who was positioned to come to her aid, and she could only be grateful of his willingness to perform such a task even against his brother of blood.

"And what of that ruffian, Don John?" said Beatrice.

"He has fled Messina," said Benedick. "Were that he had not, that I might challenge him as well. Claudio has played the fool, but Don John has played the villain."

"Stand you firm in your office?" Hero said. Benedick gave her a tired smile.

"As firm as steel, lady, or a rock which, being buffeted by the wind and the sea, becomes as polished and smooth as a newborn babe or an old man's head. I will not fail you, no matter what buffets me. I am engaged."

"In more than one sense, I hope," Beatrice said. Benedick stared at her, and Hero had to hold back her shocked giggles. She had known her cousin's heart, but she had hardly expected her to be so forward.

"I am engaged in every sense."

"Pity. I shall have to find the girl and throw down my gauntlet."

"You mistake me, lady. We are already engaged in this merry war of ours."

"So you admit that your blood does quicken when we spar."

"Indeed, it goes to my liver, which poisons me in turns with sanguine and choleric humours. The choleric dominates for the moment, bent by my brain in the defense of a lady."

"And when your office has been completed?"

"I dare hope to not be choleric then. I have been thus too often as of late, engaged in great battles and petty disputes. The sanguine disposition more suits me, I believe."

"Yes," said Beatrice, "I have seen much of your sanguine liver, but what of your heart?"

"It is engaged as much as my liver, though I fear it shall be pricked to death first."

"Do you think so little to your mettle that you should be overcome by a few thorns?"

"Nay, but happily shall I frolic through the nettles in search of the most glorious rose."

“Enough,” Beatrice said. “Speak plainly, Signor Benedick, or speak not at all.”

“Then I fear I must become a mute. Now is not the moment for speaking of such things.”

“I thought you were an honest soldier, Signor.”

“Aye, but when my mind lights on the image of the Lady Beatrice I find no such words.”

“And what do you find?”

“Words of love,” he said with a sudden seriousness, “though ill-formed ones, I fear. I am not of a poetical bent.”

“Nor I, I fear,” said Beatrice. “For those such as us, barbed words must take the place of honeyed ones. Still, we have the advantage of knowing that behind every abuse is goodly honesty. Flies swarm to carrion as easily as to honey.”

“I fear I have been less than honest,” Benedick said, “for I have much abused a fine woman as of late with my barbed tongue.”

“No more than I have abused an honorable lord with mine. Perhaps we should not be so excellent had we not taken advantage of each others’ censure.”

“Indeed,” said Benedick. “I pray you, lady, how shall I obtain the advantage of your censure after the prince has quit Messina?”

“You are no longer bound to his company,” said Beatrice. “With my uncle’s blessing, I would have you join mine.” Benedick looked as though he could hardly believe the evidence of his own senses.

“Do you mean that in truth?” he said.

“Are you doubting my word, Signor?” He reached out, and Hero thought for a moment that he would go beyond all bounds of propriety, but he managed to restrain himself to taking Beatrice’s hand and kissing it deeply.

“Never,” he said. “I had only thought it an impossibility after all our battles. I have not acted as a wooer.”

“Yet you have succeeded in your wooing in spite of all and proven yourself a better man than your demeanor would sometimes suggest. Nay,” for Benedick had opened his mouth, “do not think I say these things lightly, or that I accept your suite from pity or gratitude for my poor cousin. If I was not inclined your way, no power on heaven or earth would sway me.”

“Aye, I know  _ that _ well,” Benedick said. Beatrice swatted his arm gently, but she could not hold back a giddy grin.

“Go. Speak with my uncle, if you are indeed a man. You have confronted far worse than he in battle as of late.”

“In this battle I would be happier struck down so long as it was by Cupid’s arrow. Nonetheless, I will go to your uncle.” Benedick gave her hand another lingering kiss before leaving, looking slightly unsteady on his feet. Hero rushed to her cousin, full of joy even as the pain of Claudio’s too recent betrayal made its uncomfortable home in her heart.

“Oh, cousin, I am glad for you,” she said.

“Would that we had more reasons to be glad,” Beatrice said. “Yet I find I cannot help but smile. I loved him even before, though my head denied my heart with many cruel imitations of logic, but these last few desperate hours have shown him to be made of better stuff than any stuffed prince.”

“You need not try to keep from smiling,” said Hero. “I am glad that you have found a husband worthy of you, and one who can keep pace with your sharp wit.”

“I only,” Beatrice hesitated, “I pray that he does not come off the worse in his duel with Count Claudio. It would be a hard thing indeed for my uncle to have two marriages fall apart in so short a span.” Hero reached out and squeezed Beatrice’s hand in both of hers.

“He is the better soldier, the better man,” she said. “If he is defeated by so low a villain, then there is truly no God in heaven.”

* * *

The next day was that of the supposed funeral, which Hero attended in the guise of a lady-in-waiting, a black veil obscuring her features. Immediately following the burial, Benedick announced to her father that Claudio had taken up his challenge and would be waiting for them in the courtyard. The entire assemblage, therefore, followed the family back to the estate. The air hung heavy with a dark anticipation, the prevailing opinion being that Claudio deserved whatever account Signor Benedick saw fit to render, but Hero noticed that Beatrice looked pale and ill.

“Do not be anxious, cousin,” she whispered to her. “He is a skilled soldier, much lauded for his exploits in the prince’s service.”

“As is Count Claudio,” Beatrice shot back, and then she said no more.

“Are you set to face me, Count?” Benedick said as he approached Claudio, who was standing in the center of the courtyard. Seeing him again brought an almost physical pain, and Hero was thankful for the veil that hid any reaction from those around her, especially her cousin. Beatrice had more cause for pain, after all, since she stood to lose an excellent man while Hero stood only to lose the ghost of a possibility.

“Aye, though it grieves me,” Claudio said. “Had you not forced my hand, I would have been your friend evermore. Oh, unhappy day, when mercy and brotherhood are so easily abandoned!”

“Speak no more of mercy, villain!” Benedick growled. “You are not worthy to touch that word with your lips. Had you an ounce of mercy in your veins, you would not have slandered so sweet a lady, and the noble Hero might live. As it is, I will treat you with the mercy you shew her.”

“I had good reason to believe the evidence of mine eyes and ears.”

“And still he protests! Well, we have nothing else to say to one another. En garde!” Benedick drew his sword, and Claudio’s followed a heartbeat later. For a moment the two men circled one another, searching for an opening. Then, in a flurry of movement, Benedick darted forward. His blade bore down on Claudio, and the younger man barely got his sword up in time to block. Steel clashed against steel as Benedick kept up a furious offensive, trying unsuccessfully to break through Claudio’s defense. A glancing hit from Claudio drew blood from Benedick’s left arm and forced him to fall back. Hero’s hand had been claimed by Beatrice, and it was almost numb from the strength of her cousin’s grasp.

“Do you yield?” Claudio said. Benedick spat on the ground.

“Do you think I have so little honor in me?” he said before throwing himself forward once again. It immediately became apparent to Hero that, while Benedick was less technically proficient and hampered slightly by his wound, her defender had two distinct advantages. Claudio’s parries were already beginning to slow, while Benedick showed no signs of tiring, and Claudio was dueling only for his life, a paltry prize, while Benedick was consumed with the fire of love and honorable anger. It made little difference that Hero was still living, since if she revealed her survival she would be ever despised for her supposed transgressions. Death of reputation was almost worse than true death, since one had to continue living afterwards.

All this Hero considered as she watched the man she had thought she loved and her cousin’s beloved duel in a whirlwind of furious skill. At a certain point all niceties, all sense of fencing form seemed to drop away, leaving only the feral, desperate fight of the battlefield. In this, too, Benedick was Claudio’s superior, showing himself willing to employ every underhanded trick in order to defeat his enemy. But it was no trick that allowed his sword to slip beneath Claudio's guard and pierce the man in the stomach, just below his rib cage. The Count fell to the ground, struggling to remain even on his knees. Benedick's wound, which had looked superficial at first, was pouring blood down his left side, but he seemed not to feel an ounce of pain, resolute in spite of his harsh breathing and slight unsteadiness on his feet. Benedick pressed the tip of his blade to Claudio's throat.

"Do you yield?" Benedick said. Claudio wavered, his eyes squeezed shut, the dark red of his blood having already spread to cover almost his entire lower torso. Hero ought to have felt pain or pity, for she knew that barring a miracle he would die, but her soul could only muster up a burning, furious sense of triumph.

"I yield," he gasped.

"Then you admit that your foolishness and pride hath murdered a sweet and innocent lady?" Claudio nodded. "Say it!"

"I do, by God I do! Hero was innocent, and I bear the guilt of her blood on my hands!" Benedick looked over and caught her eyes.

"Lady Beatrice," he said, "is your cousin satisfied?" Hero gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod and squeezed her cousin's hand.

"Yes," Beatrice said. “She is satisfied.” Benedick let out a shaky breath, and he lowered his sword.

"Then let it be so with God," he said. The loss of his blood grew too great a burden to bear, and he would have fallen to the ground next to Claudio had Beatrice not rushed forward to steady him. Hero followed her, reaching out both to take some of his weight and to assure herself that he was alive, that her request had not proven his downfall. She had become slowly aware, over the course of the duel, that had she considered the matter longer she might not have risked his life in destroying her would-be husband's.

"Uncle, call for a doctor!" Beatrice ordered. She had already brought out a handkerchief and was attempting to stem the bleeding, though the small piece of fabric was soaked through in moments. Benedick gave her a small, tired, yet achingly loving smile.

"'Tis but a scratch, Lady Beatrice," he said, "and one I am happy to bear, for your cousin's sake. It needs but time and a linen bandage."

"Yet I would have you seen by the finest doctor in Messina."

"Ha! I have borne worse on the battlefields, and for worse cause."

"Segnor, I would see you well," Hero said. He turned his head to her, and she could see the pain he was manfully seeking to conceal. "If you would not be well for your sake, be so for the good Lady Beatrice's and for my own, since you have done us a great and honorable service."

"You rate these actions too highly, methinks," Benedick said. "Still, as the lady commands." Slowly, carefully, she and her cousin began to lead him towards the estate. Though Hero knew that Claudio was dying behind her, she didn't look back. She had no reason to do so.

* * *

Later, in the evening, when Benedick's arm had been bandaged and a hasty funeral for Claudio arranged, Hero sat by his bedside as chaperone for her cousin. Beatrice was on the bed with him, true, and closer than propriety would think best, but they were using the opportunity privacy presented in a far more productive manner.

"What plans do you have, Lady Hero, now that the truth of things has been proven in combat?" Benedick said.

"I cannot go back to what I once was," Hero said. "My name, though unsullied, is forever clouded, and I can see no future in my father's house."

"Do you not wish to find a man more worthy of your hand?"

"Is there such a man?" Hero said. "A man of honor would not wish for so sullied a wife, and a man who would accept such goods delights not me."

"Speak not so, Hero," Beatrice said. "You are not shamed or sullied, not anymore, and a man who cannot see the difference between truth and vicious slanders has no claim to the title of honorable."

"If you judge by that, you dishonor all the world," said Hero with a humorless laugh. "Indeed, there is but one man in a thousand who would ignore such questions to my virtue, and I fear you have caught him. And no, Signor, your offer cannot stand. You are already engaged, and publically too."

"Indeed," said Benedick, "yet I wish there was some way-"

"There is one," Hero said. "When are you to take my cousin from my father's house?"

"In not more than a week. We wait only for my wound to heal a little," Benedick said.

"And you shall allow her to bring a number of servants and ladies-in-waiting, seeing as you have not employed such on your own estate."

"I believe I catch your meaning." Benedick hesitated. "It is not a position befitting a lady of your status."

"It need not be maintained."

"Still, would you not rather have a husband and estate of your own?" Hero shook her head. 

"Give me a little room and a few little ones to spoil as their maiden aunt, and I shall be happy," she said. "My view on the married state is as low as you once professed yours to be, and I would rather live as the servant to a good man than the wife of a dishonorable one." Benedick still seemed uncertain.

"Beatrice, what say you?" he asked.

"Only this: my cousin speaks truly when she says she cannot go back to being the lady Hero. Perhaps this path may bring her happiness as her birthright could not."

"Very well," Benedick said. "I shall take your council, my almost-wife."

"Say not almost-wife, it sounds very ill."

"Then what shall I call you?" Beatrice considered him for a moment, and Hero could see the mischief lighting in her eyes.

"Not wife, I feel. It is a hard term, bringing to mind the nag which I shall only be twice weekly. And not love, for it is a soft term, and I should not have our affections fly away at the slightest breeze. No, call me but Beatrice in those tones of love, and I shall be satisfied."

"I fear I have not considered these things in such stiff terms," Benedick said. "Call me your husband or call me your ass, so long as you call me yours." He turned to Hero, suddenly seeming aware of their audience. "And what shall I call you, fair lady, now that Hero has quit thy dwelling?"

"You have been doing quite well, Signor, in calling me cousin," Hero said, "but as for a name, I believe I shall be known as Franscisca."

"Franscisca?" Benedick said. Hero smiled, and she felt lighter than she had since her wedding day had been destroyed by the lies and foolishness of men.

"It is a fitting name," she said, "for I intend to be free."


End file.
